Undressed By The Mafia God

When they returned from the city, he had taken Matteo himself. He fed him, changed him, rocked him through the sleepy little protests.

Eventually, the boy slept. Marco placed him down carefully, waited to be sure he would not stir, then adjusted the blanket. "There," he whispered. "Help your father out tonight, yes?"

Matteo slept on. Marco went back to the bedroom. Valentina was already in bed. She lay on her side, her back to the door, hair spilling over the pillow, one shoulder exposed above the sheet. He undressed quietly and joined her, deciding to make another effort.

Marco moved closer and slipped his arm around her waist. "Hey," he murmured. "You asleep?" His lips brushed the side of her neck.

"I would be," Val said. She turned slightly, offering him a smile that did not reach her eyes.

"I missed you, love," he said. His hand tightened slightly at her waist, pulling her toward him. "Come on."

"I’m exhausted, Marco. After the movies, Carol just kept us touring the city." She sighed. "Who tours at night?"

"Italy is beautiful at night."

"I’m sorry, love," she said. "Tomorrow."

"You said that last night."

"I didn’t know you were going to banish me from the house today," she argued.

"I thought going out would help you relax."

"Is that it?" she asked. "Or you didn’t want me here while some mafia shit went down."

"Yes!" Marco sat up sharply, every bit of restraint he had been holding onto snapping clean in half. "Fuck, yes!" He dragged a hand through his bald head, breathing hard, staring at her like she had become a stranger in his bed. "What... what is this? What’s wrong with you?" "I have always been in the famiglia," he said, voice rough with frustration. "Always. You knew who I was when you married me. You knew what this life was. So why is it suddenly an issue?"

"I’m too tired to argue," Val and turned onto her side again, giving him her back.

Marco stared at her. For a moment, he did nothing. He swallowed hard, jaw tightening.

Fine.

If she wanted silence, he would give it to her. Marco got out of bed. He found his T-shirt where he had thrown it over a chair and pulled it on with more force than fabric deserved. Then he grabbed a pair of pants, dragged them up, and reached for his shoes.

Val turned slightly. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere I do not have to be a bug in my wife’s ear," he snapped.

"Marco—"

He marched out of the room. Valentina lay motionless listening to his retreating footsteps. Then she turned over, grabbed the pillow, pressed her face into it, and screamed.

The sound came out muffled but vicious. Luca was ruining her life. Luca and his enemies. Luca and his wars. Luca and the shadow he cast over everyone connected to him. Even when he was not in the room, he took up space. He became the reason for every secret.

She could not even meet her husband’s eyes for fear he would see the guilt in hers. Valentina pressed the pillow harder against her mouth, breathing through the fabric, fighting the panic clawing up her throat.

Soon, they would all understand. Luca had to be out of the way for them to be truly happy and safe.

*****

Massimo found Marco the next morning seated alone with a cup of coffee, fully dressed, and going through messages on his phone.

Marco looked like he had slept badly. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes.

"Marco!" Don called.

Marco looked up and stood at once. "Don..."

"Luca back yet?" he asked.

"No. He texted. Says it will be a couple of days."

Massimo’s brows lifted. "I guess it worked, uhn."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. I need you today."

"What do you need?"

"I want to visit the warehouse David had Vee in. I need to understand if there are any loose ends left."

"There shouldn’t be."

"Maybe there are names we missed," Massimo continued. "Your young brain will come in handy."

Marco smiled. "I’m sure it will."

If there were loose ends at David’s warehouse, Marco would find them. That part of life, he understood.

His marriage?

Apparently, no.

Carol came down then, interrupting the grim comfort of business. She moved into the room and went straight to Massimo. She leaned up and kissed him.

It was long enough to make Marco look away before his eyes suffered permanent damage. Massimo, of course, looked pleased.

Marco rolled his eyes into his coffee.

Fantastic.

Even Carol was getting some. Luca, from the sound of his mysterious text and dramatic absence, was probably somewhere inside his wife.

So that left Marco. The odd one out. He did not think he would ever say this, but he needed time away from his family. There was too much happiness and too much frustration in the same house. Too many people fixing their lives while his quietly developed cracks.

A man could only witness so much emotional progress before it began to feel like a personal attack.

"Marco, you alright?" Carol asked.

He looked up. She was watching him now.

"Yes, ma."

"You look tired."

"Long night," Marco said simply.

Carol studied him for another moment, and Marco felt the uncomfortable sensation of being read. "Where’s your wife?" she asked.

Marco took another sip of coffee before answering. "She should be with Matteo. They’ll be down in a bit, I’m guessing."

"Why don’t I go help her," Carol said, "so we can all have breakfast together?"

"Sure..." Marco replied.

"Did Luca say how long he will be cocooned inside his wife?" Massimo asked Marco.

Carol turned and slapped the back of Massimo’s head.

"What did I do?" Massimo demanded.

"I have no idea why you do not make an effort to act your age sometimes."

Massimo leaned back, rubbing the back of his head with wounded dignity. "What are you talking about? I’m young. Virile."

Marco closed his eyes.

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